All Hearts Are Broken
by thehooperparadox
Summary: Rose Tyler was never one to wallow in self-pity. After the Doctor leaves her in a parallel universe, she decides it's time for an adventure all her own. The only thing she doesn't expect is a living, breathing Sherlock Holmes to become her best friend. So, when the Doctor is finally able to get back to her, will she go with him, or stay with Sherlock?
1. Chapter 1

__Rose stifled a yawn, as flashes of color cascaded past the windows in a blur. A small smile made its way onto her face, and she closed her eyes for a moment. The rush took her away. She felt like everything was the same again: with the Doctor, in the TARDIS, feeling that exhilarating rush of adrenalin flow into her bloodstream. But when she opened her eyes, all she had around her was the silence of a early-morning metro. Sighing, she raised the newspaper back up to her view, taking extra notice of the police report column.

"Sherlock Holmes" seemed to be a recurring theme through out every report she'd read into since she was trapped on this alternate plane. The reports felt like the adventures she used to enjoy, but with a thrill even the Doctor could never have given her. A thrill of uncovering an answer for herself, without his all-knowing help. The paper was carefully slid back into her jeans pocket as the train came to a halt.

Stepping out the door, she made her way to the surface of the small port. Out of the corner of her eye she spotted it: the crime scene. She searched through her pockets until she pulled out a single sheet of blank paper with a grin.

"Inspector Rose Tyler." she said stoical, ducking beneath the yellow tape. Sargent Donovan sighed, letting the stranger pass. She stood in at the sidelines, keeping care as not to be noticed. She rubbed her TARDIS key between her forefinger and thumb absently, trying to make out what the officers were crowded around.

Meanwhile, Sherlock Holmes and his trusty blogger had just arrived at the scene. Albeit, reluctantly, in regards to the detective. "I don't see the point in me being here, Lestrade. The Yard doesn't trust me since my return." he muttered, shoving past pesky forensics agent Anderson. "Hey!" the man squeaked, "Welcome back, freak."

Sherlock merely grumble something profane, before walking towards the huddle of officers. "Move." he barked, as they all backed away quickly. Except one. Out of the corner of his eye, Sherlock could see her. Blonde hair, brown eyes, brown jacket and blue jeans. A key wrapped around her neck with a pink ribbon. But, her back story was coming up blank. Only one point stood out: she didn't belong there.

John, by this point, had also noticed the enigmatic woman. Making his way over to her, offering up another cheesy chat-up line. Sherlock shook his head violently, trying his best to focus back on the work at hand. He pulled a magnifier out of his coat pocket, bending over the victim.

Giggling. His mind reeled, and he looked up. She was standing there giggling uncomfortably as John rolled out another line. Something along the lines of: "The 'H' stand for how you doin'?" Her brown eyes avoided John's and suddenly latched onto his own. He felt his breath hitch.

From behind him, he heard Lestrade talking to some intern. Switching off. Sherlock shook himself again, returning back to the body once more. A figure suddenly crouched down across from him, brown hair messy and black glasses sliding down his nose. He looked around, before pulling a silver device out from his suit. It buzzed lightly, pulling the detective's gaze to it. The man looked up, noticing Sherlock's concern.

He placed it back in his pocket with a smirk. "Our little secret, 'eh, Holmes?"


	2. Chapter 2

Sherlock tried to decipher this strange man's back story but he once again could only deduce one thing, he didn't belong here. "How do you know my name?" he inquired with an quizical look. "Oh, I've seen you in the papers. I'm a big fan!" said the peculiar man with a grin. "I'm the Doctor by the way."

As Sherlock was torn between further studying the man in front of him who called himself the "doctor" and examining the corpse, the Doctor glanced over his shoulder in the direction of John and the blonde woman. With a sudden sense of urgency the Doctor stood up and said "See you around, Holmes." and with that he left the scene.

The Doctor would have loved to walk over to Rose and sweep her up in his arms, but he couldn't let her know he was in this dimension, not now anyways. For now he had to hurry back to the TARDIS and return to his universe, hoping his brief trip here wouldn't have any negative impacts. He promised himself that as soon as he could he would return and whisk Rose away into the stars.

Back at the crime scene Sherlock had determined who and what killed the poor victim and was in the process of relaying this information to D.I. Lestrade when he noticed out of the corner of his eye the mysterious woman. She had apparently evaded John's presence and was listening in on his conversation, obviously intrigued by his deduction skills.

"That's fantastic!" she remarked after Sherlock was finished and Lestrade turned away. A grin tugged at the corner of Sherlock's mouth and a placid "Thank you." escaped his lips. "I'm Rose Tyler, by the way" she remarked as she held out her hand. " Sherlock Holmes." he said as he shook her hand. "Oh, I've read about you in the papers!" something about this girl was different, and not just the fact that Sherlock couldn't piece together her life story.

"Would you like to go out for dinner sometime?" Sherlock had no idea why he said that and he immediately regretted it. _Stupid! She doesn't want to have dinner with you! _he thought, but to his surprise Rose agreed and they exchanged numbers. "Just give me a call whenever." she said as she began to leave the scene. "I prefer to text" he stated with a small grin. "Okay" she giggled as she turned and left.

John cleared his throat behind him and Sherlock pulled his gaze from the back of the beautiful woman he just met to his blogger. "Ready to go, Romeo?" John teased with a smirk. Sherlock rolled his eyes and the duo headed home to 221b.


	3. Chapter 3

"You have a what?!" John's face was priceless, even the great Sherlock Holmes had to admit. "She'll go out with you, but when I give her a line...what do I get?" John rolled his eyes, turning away from his friend. "I mean, she was beautiful...and you're gone aren't you?" Sighing, John turned around to find the space where Sherlock once stood to be void of his presence. The only sound he could hear was the shower's low hum.

Rose, however, was on edge. Having no idea what had come over her when she encountered the living, breathing literature figure, she had a feeling her hormones were far out of line. How was it possible to keep it together around The Doctor, the singly most important man in the entire universe, but not around a slightly famous detective? Looking at herself in the mirror, she decided to play this down as much as possible. From her research, it was doubtful this man had a romantic bone in his body, much less an understanding of personal boundaries. Maybe he and the Doctor weren't so unalike after all.

Suddenly, she heard a hollow thumping on her front door. Wrapping her dressing gown more firmly around her body, she opened the door to find a deliveryman, package under his arm. "Delivery fo' a miss..." he consulted his delivery sheet momentarily, "Rose Tyler. From a Mista' John Smith." Rose took the package hesitantly, signing on the dotted line.

Not once did she notice who was under the delivery cap.

He slumped against the wooden frame of her door after it was swung to a close, pulling his hat off his head. Ruffling his hair with his fingers, he let out a quiet sigh, hoping she wouldn't suspect his continued presence. He was messing with her time line a bit, after all. But was there really harm in giving her one of Marilyn Monroe's dresses? Marilyn had given it to him once, and he never really had any use for it. Hearing a slight gasp from the other side of the door, he smiled to himself.

"I'm coming back for you, Rose. Don't give up on me just yet."


	4. Chapter 4

Rose was standing in front of the mirror, admiring the way the dress fit her figure. Her mind raced to unscramble the riddle of who John Smith was and how he acquired a dress that looked exactly like Marilyn Monroe's red sequin dress. Perhaps the more important question was why he sent it to her. A knock at the door broke her fixated gaze at her reflection and she walked over to the doorway, only having to catch her balance on the back of the sofa once.

As she opened the door the light from the setting sun reflected off of her dress and sent globes of light dancing across the doorway. Sherlock was so mesmerized by the beautiful figure in front of him it took him a few seconds before he regained his composure and extended his arm for Rose to take. "You look stunning." said the usually unromantic Sherlock Holmes in amazement. "Thanks, you don't look too bad yourself." joked Rose. Arm in arm they walked to the awaiting cab.

"Hello and welcome to Luigi's." stated a blonde teenager in a monotone voice, "I'm Trevor, and I'll be your waiter." he continued as he handed them the menu. "What can I get you to drink?" Trevor asked, looking towards Rose."Just water for me, thanks." she replied. "Water for me too." Sherlock added. Trevor lazily wrote down their drink orders and disappeared into the kitchen.

"There's so many things to choose from!" remarked Rose, who was carefully studying the menu. Luigi's was a favorite of Sherlock's and he already knew what he was going to order so instead of the menu he looked at Rose. _Absolutely breath-taking. _He thought with a smile slowly spreading across his face. _NO! Quit letting your emotions get the better of you. _he thought, a scowl suddenly replacing the beginnings of a grin. "Everything alright?" Rose asked with concern in her voice. "Oh yes, I'm fine." he replied "Just thinking." Sherlock watched as Rose's look of concern vanished and she went back to her menu.

Back in the kitchen, the Doctor was putting on Trevor's uniform. It was quite easy to convince the unmotivated lad that he was there to relieve him of his duties as a waiter, especially with the help of the Doctor's trusty psychic paper. He still couldn't alert Rose of his presence though, so he put in color contacts and attached a fake moustache to his upper lip. Even though he knew he looked ridiculous, he had to make sure his Rose was okay.


	5. Chapter 5

"Water," 'Trevor' slurred, sloshing the clear drink over the detective's lap. Receiving a murderous glare, he gently placed Rose's drink in front of her. She smiled up at him thankfully, and he felt both his hearts stop. Sherlock cleared his throat, tearing their gazes away from one another; both blushing madly, and on Rose's part, confused.

"I'll take the usual." Holmes all but growled, under his breath. As Rose gave her order, his blue eyes casually glanced around the room. The server then took the orders back to the kitchen, somewhat begrudged.

Rose awkwardly tapped her fingers wordlessly against her glass. Sherlock continued to glance around the room, apparently oblivious to her silent pleas for conversation. Suddenly, his icy gaze bore into her eyes. "How long?" he whispered. Her blood went cold. Eyes ablaze, she gripped his hand, "How did you know?" Her brown eyes glistened with unshed tears.

He contemplated flaunting his powers of deduction, but the thought was short-lived. "You look sad, when you think he can't see you." His lip quirked up as he thought of the original phrase. "T-that's because he can't. He's gone, Sherlock."

He tilted her eyes up to meet his. "Well, he doesn't know what he's missing," he began softly. Shaking away the sentimental tosh, he continued his statement, "Forget him; he's an idiot."

As 'Trevor' neared with two very heavy plates in both, now clenched, fists, the two dropped their hands. "Here's your food." The Doctor grumbled, dropping the trays on the table with a thud. The two watched as he childishly stomped away, ripping off his apron to show a brown trench coat.

_It couldn't be him, could it?_


	6. Chapter 6

_That Sherlock bloke will pay for stealing away __**my **__Ro-_

His furious thoughts were interrupted when he suddenly crashed into a girl. Papers and auburn hair went flying as the long girl tripped over him. She landed with a resounding thud atop his lanky body. The Doctor watched as the girl's brown eyes grew wide and she immediately began stuttering apologies.

"S-sorr- I, erm, h-hi..." She began. The Doctor flashed her an enigmatic smile as he introduced himself to the lovely woman who was struggling to push herself off him. "Hello, I'm the Doctor" she stopped short in her attempt to gather her papers off the floor. Noticing how close he now was to her, she tucked a piece of hair behind her ear nervously. _Come on, Molly_, her mind screamed, _talk to him! He can't be as bad as Jim! Show Sherlock he was wrong!_At the precise moment she opened her mouth, the back door to Luigi's slammed open, smacking the poor "Doctor" across the face.

In the blink of an eye, the Doctor went from his compromising position on the ground to the nearest place of shelter, the garbage bin. Molly Hooper looked on in amusement as she collected the last of her papers. _Perfect night to visit her Uncle Luigi, indeed. _Suddenly, a bus-boy walked out the back door, nodding in acknowledgement to Molly, before depositing a rather large amount of trash into the strange man's hiding place.

As soon as he was certain the foolish boy had returned to the restaurant, he cautiously peered over the rim of the garbage bin. His eyes meet those of the pretty woman who was on top of him only moments ago. "I didn't quite catch your name" he said with another of his enigmatic smiles. Instead of catching the woman's name, his ears where only met with laughter that seemed to be directed towards him. She pointed to his head with a shaking hand and the Doctor wiped his head of the rubbish that had somehow become lodged in his wisps of hair during his dumpster diving experience.

He reluctantly stood up from his place, letting the rest of the rubbish slid off his frame. He turned to walk away, until a voice called out to him.

"Oi! Doctor, wait!" he turned to see the woman running towards him, a scrap of paper in her hand, "my name's Molly, since you asked." The paper was shoved not-so discretely into his endless pockets. "Call me sometime?"

He smiled a lop-sided grin, "Definitely." he replied as he turned and trotted away into the shadowy night. **(1)**

**AUTHORS' NOTE:**

**(1) Could also be interpreted as; "He replied as he back-trotted away into the shadows, Metallica seemingly randomly playing in the distant night."**


	7. Chapter 7

"Well, that was...nice." Rose rambled awkwardly, twirling a lock of golden hair around her index finger. Sherlock merely nodded in what seemed like agreement. The empty night enveloped the, as they stood outside Rose's flat. So much quiet.  
Suddenly, in realization that the man before her had no idea how to continue, she kissed the corner of his mouth quickly. He stared, mouth agape, as she locked herself inside her home in a fluid motion. Both stood, backs to their respective sides of the door.  
"Goodnight." the detective whispered into the darkness, before he turned and headed for home. As he turned the corner around Rose's apartment, everything suddenly went black.

* * *

Sherlock woke to see a very worried man before him. The man prodded him in the temple with a mechanical object, before noticing his return to consciousness. "Ah, Mr. Holmes! We finally get to meet!" he helped the detective up. "I found you in this alley, all by yourself. Imagine, of all places to sneak a nap. I wouldn't suggest doing this again." Sherlock winced at the slim man's endless tutting.  
The detective's eyes scanned his counterpart curiously. Hard to interrupt, just like Rose. The man appeared to be in his age-range; his hair stuck up in gravity-defying angles. The man slipped on a pair of glasses to continue his inspection of a suspicious bruise on Sherlock's temple -which he'd been prodding earlier.  
"Ow!" Holmes yelped, causing both men to jump.  
The Doctor tutted once more, "Oi, watch it, pretty boy! I am a Doctor. _Actuallllly_, I'm _the_ Doctor. Anyway, this is one nasty bruise. Mind following me?" Sherlock hadn't the faintest clue of what possessed him to do such a thing, but he felt his feet plodding along after the strange man. Right up to a small, blue police box.  
"C'mon!" the man called from inside the box, waving a hand outside, signaling for Holmes to follow. As he stepped inside, however, Sherlock could fell his well-formed mind palace quickly dissolving. He stepped outside the strange contraption, rounding it curiously. Then, he stepped back inside.  
There stood the Doctor, leaning against the center console, clearly pleased with himself. "Welcome to the TARDIS, Sherlock Holmes."


End file.
